


Sins of the Fathers

by CutiePie4173



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Love Never Dies - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Agreements, Angst, Christine is dead, Drabble, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Fatherhood, Gen, Other, Traumatic Childhoods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:48:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25715314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CutiePie4173/pseuds/CutiePie4173
Summary: The night after Christine's death, Erik and Raoul find themselves unprepared. Discussions of death, childhoods, and the breaking of cycles.
Relationships: Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera, Raoul de Chagny/Christine Daaé
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	Sins of the Fathers

The small sleeping form curled up on the couch let out a soft sniffle, and then quieted again. Curled up underneath Erik’s coat, face still tear-stained, Gustave had just finally fallen asleep. He had watched his mother be carted off in an ambulance and had been questioned by the police. By the time everything was said and done, the boy was exhausted. On the taxi back to the Aerie, he had fallen asleep nestled into Raoul’s shoulder and had to be carried in to rest on the couch.

Very few words had been spoken between the two men who now occupied Erik’s apartment. Nestled on one of the floors of the building, it was practical and clean - a breath of fresh air from the opulence of the amusement park outside. Raoul was staring out the window to the ground below, his figure a dark silhouette against the bright lights of the outside world. Erik sat in the armchair beside the couch, watching Gustave like a hawk for any movement. Since they had entered the room, the two men had exchanged barely a glance and a nod towards each other.

It had been dead silent for nearly half an hour when Raoul finally spoke, still focused on the ground hundreds of feet below.

“He has your eyes. I didn’t see it until now, but he does. I always thought they looked like my brother. But they’re yours.” The words held very little emotion, and less dejection than Erik expected.

“Mm.” The sound was short. Agreeable, but simple. “He has her hair though. And her smile.” Erik couldn’t help the sad smile as he reached out to brush back the locks from Gustave’s face.

Raoul finally moved to sit in the other chair, eyes only on Gustave’s sleeping face. “He looks like her father. Right down to the ears and the nose. When he was born, she took one look at him and named him Gustave. He was supposed to be Phillipe, but she was adamant.”

“You don’t argue with a mother over her children.” Erik sat back in the chair. Neither man looked at the other, nor dared say anything with emotion. The chess game was somehow still being played, though it felt like it was now two solemn kings slowly circling each other on the board. A lazy, meaningless game.

Raoul’s voice took on a harsher tone. “My son. He is my son. No matter what the truth is, he’s my son.”

“I know.” Raoul couldn’t stop the surprised glance in the older man’s direction. Erik met his gaze for a moment. “You raised him. But he is the only family I have left. And I would do anything for him.” The masked man stood and walked on silent feet to the bar, pouring himself a glass of brandy. “When I realized he was my son… I did feel guilt. And shame. And sadness. But you know what I felt, more than anything?” Raoul tilted his head a degree forward, taking a sip from his own glass. “Pride. That I was able to put anything as bright and beautiful as he is into this world.”

Raoul nodded, eyes turning back to the young boy. “That’s what fatherhood feels like. And I… I failed him. He is sunshine, just like she was. Sometimes, he’s even brighter. And I fell into the dark so easily.” Gustave was a spitting image of his mother and his grandfather. It was difficult to look at him now, knowing his mother was lying flat on a table somewhere- Raoul winced and wiped his eyes. He wasn’t going to break down now.

Erik leaned on the top of his own armchair rather than sitting, and stared down into the amber liquid. “The darkness is tempting. I’ve been in your position, Vicomte. Vices are not easy things to overcome.” Erik’s mind flashed to waking up with empty wine bottles around him, to needles piercing his flesh, to blurry halfway images in smoky rooms. When he had arrived in the New World, he had given into some of those vices again with his fellow freaks, but barely allowed himself a glass of wine now that Phantasma was open. He refused to drive this miracle into the ground.

“My father died of fever when I was a teenager,” Raoul confessed. “Mother died in childbirth, when I was born. I was raised by my older brother and sisters. Phillipe died a few years ago - I had no idea how to be a father.”

Erik nodded and took a long sip of his drink. “My father died before I was born. My mother, though it’s hard to believe anything she told me, said he was Austrian, a masonry man… Died in a construction accident. I don’t even know if that’s true. My mother died about twenty years ago of sickness, not that I knew her. I ran away from home when I was younger than Gustave.” Erik had never told anyone about his childhood in detail before. “I don’t know how to be a parent. But I… I can’t let him live the same life I did.”

Raoul set down his glass on the coffee table and let his face fall into his hands. “I can’t believe I failed him. I failed her. But he… He’s a child.” Erik nodded and sat back down in his chair, saying nothing. “What the hell am I going to do? I’m deep in debt, I have nothing to give him-”

“He’ll be taken care of.” Raoul paused and looked up through glassy eyes. Erik’s gaze was firm on the young boy. “School, clothes, housing, university. It’s taken care of.” He took a breath and finally looked at Raoul. The men stared at each other. For the first time, there was no malice, no anger, no jealousy. Just humanity. “Vicomte… Raoul.” The name sounded awkward and wrong off the masked man’s lips. “No matter how we feel about it… We are connected now. We have to provide for him.”

There was a strange tension in the air. Raoul wanted to shove away his offer - money from a disfigured killer, a monster, a manipulative villain! - but the look in the man’s eyes gave him pause. Raoul had legal rights to Gustave, and his old money status would give the child ample chances in life. But this monst- man. This man, this Erik, was wealthy and powerful and wouldn’t be letting Gustave go. Was that so terrible, though? That he was determined to see Gustave succeed? He had certainly helped Christine in the past, and he had built a kingdom in this New World. If they worked together… Gustave could surpass both of them.

“We have to provide for him,” Raoul repeated. He let out a soft hiccough and wiped away a large tear. “We did this to him. We have to protect him.”

Erik’s jaw tensed and he looked away, blinking back his emotion. “I brought her here. I lured you both in with money-”

“But I drank and gambled my own money away. If I hadn’t, we wouldn’t have come,” Raoul reasoned, unsure why he wanted to reassure the other man.

Erik shot a red-rimmed glance at the Vicomte. “I left her with a child.”

The comment hurt, but Raoul swallowed. “And he is the best of us. When we were down in that catacomb, we all made sacrifices. I risked my life, Christine risked her freedom, and you risked your happiness. And now… She’s gone, I am unhappy, and you are chained in fatherhood. But I’d walk through fire for him.”

Erik nodded and let out a shaky breath. “If we ally ourselves… There isn’t a door that won’t be open to him. I would bleed myself dry and sell my soul to the devil if it meant his happiness.”

“I don’t forgive you for what you’ve done. And I won’t pretend to like you. But… The sins of the fathers will not damn our son.” Raoul suddenly stretched out a hand to Erik, eyes trained seriously on his own. “Give your word. Everything we do from now on is for his benefit.”

Erik eyed the hand. “And we tell him nothing of our history. Mr. Y and the Vicomte, nothing more.” Raoul nodded in agreement. Erik took his hand, staring intently. “For her.”

They shook hands, not breaking eye contact. “Together.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was strongly inspired by "Dear Theodosia" from Hamilton.
> 
> This is another one of my Hour-Fiction challenges, where I write a short fic in an hour or less. If you have any prompts or suggestions (from angst to fluff to smut to whatever), please drop them in a comment or private message!


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